Peril in the Pacific
by jerry koch
Summary: The Quest family becomes stranded on an uncharted island with an old enemy who means to kill them.
**PERIL IN THE PACIFIC**

 **A Jonny Quest Adventure**

By Jerry Koch

March, 1965: The winter was drawing to a close, but it was still late summer, south of the equator - a tropical night, hot and still, even out at sea. The Quest research schooner looked small and alone on the calm, shimmering waters, gliding along under a full moon. On the bridge within, Dr. Benton Quest (the eminent American government scientist) was manning the helm as Roger "Race" Bannon (the U.S. Intelligence One agent assigned to serve as Quest family bodyguard) kept him company.

"So," observed Race, gazing out the viewport with casual indifference. "This is the Coral Sea. We could hardly be any further from home."

"You can say that again," replied the doctor. "Some of these islands are among the wildest places on Earth. In fact, much of New Guinea is still unexplored."

"And the Great Barrier Reef of Australia will be perfect for your marine research."

"That's right. If this weather holds, we could be there in no time."

Race became reflective.

"It looks so peaceful, now. Hard to believe this whole area was a war zone, not so long ago."

"Yes, well…thank goodness that's all over with," said Dr. Quest. "Take the helm for a while, will you, Race? I want to go check on the boys.

"Sure thing, Doctor."

Race took Dr Quest's place at the controls, allowing the doctor to go below. It was all a matter of routine…but neither man would have been so sanguine had they known what lay before them. Bobbing, unseen, in the dark waters ahead was a black iron sphere, studded with spiked horns - the sinister shape of an aquatic mine.

Blissfully unaware of the threat, Dr Quest arrived at the cabin door to look in on Jonny (his 11 year old son) and Hadji (his adopted son of similar age, from India). He found them both sitting up in bed, studying their school books. Bandit (Jonny's miniature bulldog) was sleeping contentedly at his master's feet.

"How are you boys doing in here?"

"Just doing our homework, Dad," replied Jonny.

"Yes," added Hadji. "It seems our homework follows us everywhere. Even when we are not at home!"

"Okay, well, finish up soon," said Dr. Quest. "Lights out in ten minutes."

Up on the Bridge, Race sensed a slight bump at the controls. His hair-trigger instincts immediately registered alarm. A quick glance down at the gauges, though, indicated no problems and the ship seemed to be proceeding along smoothly enough. His brief feeling of apprehension passed and no action seemed necessary as he continued on through the night. What he did not see – could not see from his perspective on the bridge – was down at the waterline.

It was the mine. Bumping off the prow, it was miraculously pushed aside. Now it bobbed and turned dangerously as it scraped along the length of the ship - but it did not explode. Maybe it was a dud…

No such luck. Mere inches before passing clear of the stern, an active detonator horn made solid contact with the hull. There was a huge blast, sending a geyser of water and debris high over the fantail. A gaping rent was torn out of the aft section and the schooner began taking on water fast.

Dr. Quest was nearly thrown to the floor of the boy's cabin as the force of the blast sent a violent shudder throughout the small ship. Jonny cried out in shock.

"What was that?"

"I don't know! You boys get your life jackets on!" shouted the doctor as he bolted out the doorway.

By the time he reached the bridge, Race was already at the rear superstructure railing, overlooking the damaged stern. The ship was tilting quickly and water was rushing over the aft decks – near to where the hydrofoil runabout dangled from its twisted davits, also wrecked. It would do no good, now.

"What is it, Race?"

"Some kind of explosion! Probably an old mine, left over from the war."

"Oh no! Of all the luck!"

"We're going down fast by the stern, Doctor! And the hydrofoil is out of commission!"

Jonny and Hadji appeared in the passage behind the men. Already in life jackets, they clung to the walls in order to brace themselves against the increasing list of the ship. Jonny carried a distressed looking Bandit, wearing his own little doggie life jacket, in his one free arm as he called out to his father.

"What's going on, Dad?

"Are we sinking?" added Hadji.

"I'm afraid so," replied Dr. Quest. "Everybody, up to the bow, quickly! We'll have to swim for it!"

The two men ducked into the passage as the rising water level reached halfway up the superstructure, almost to their feet on the second deck. The bow lifted high above the surface at an increasing tilt. Soon the entire party spilled out onto the angled foredeck, the adults now also in life jackets, as they grasped their way along the handrails to the front. The dark, jagged shape of an island loomed within sight on the horizon.

"Everybody over the side," ordered Dr. Quest. "Swim for that island!"

"Geronimo!" cried Jonny, still clutching Bandit as he jumped.

Hadji followed close behind. "Wait for me!" he shouted, as both boys plunged into the waters, below.

"Get clear of the undertow!" Race called after them. "Swim away from the ship as fast as you can!"

"Better get going, yourself, Race," prompted Dr. Quest.

"After you, Doctor."

Race brought up the rear, as both men splashed into the inky black sea. Jonny and Hadji were already swimming out ahead. Bandit, having been dropped by his master upon contact with the surface, was dog paddling as hard as he could to keep up with them.

"Keep it up, Bandit, you can do it!" prompted Jonny. "Come on, boy!"

Race's encouraging voice reached them from across the water.

"Keep swimming, boys!"

Treading water, the two men turned and watched the schooner's bow slip finally beneath the roiling surface.

"Well, there she goes," lamented Dr. Quest. "She was a good ship."

"I know what you mean," agreed Race.

"Oh, well, we can always get another schooner. The important thing, now, is that we're all still alive."

"Yeah," agreed Race. "Let's see that we stay that way."

The huge bubbles welling up from the sinking ship eventually subsided, leaving no trace of the sudden disaster. The sea waters remained as calm as before.

The next morning found the Quest party washed up on the shores of the small tropical island, seen the night before. Dr. Quest, Jonny, and Hadji were disheveled heaps, collapsed from exhaustion at the water's edge. Bandit was lying near Jonny, belly down and limbs spread, like a discarded rag doll on the little strip of sand. Just inland from the beach, a leafy wall of vegetation separated them from a dense jungle interior, rising to a rocky peak at the center of the island, where a lush waterfall streamed down a cliff face. Strange whoops and whistles filled the air with the cries of unfamiliar creatures – only adding to the exotic, alien feel of the place. Nowhere was there any sign of civilization.

Stirring with a groan, Dr. Quest lifted himself up on one elbow to survey the boys.

"Well, we all made it," he observed. "Everyone alright?"

Jonny stirred, too, stiffly sitting up with a sigh and shaking his head to clear the cobwebs away.

"I'm okay, I guess. Boy, what a swim!"

Hadji lifted his face from the sand.

"I am fine as well. But I don't think Bandit feels so good. Never has he drunk so much water!"

As if on cue, the little dog raised his head just long enough to spout a mouthful of water, before collapsing into exhaustion again.

Having already regained his strength, Race was standing in the nearby surf, fishing debris out of the water with a long stick.

"Hey, look at this," he called out to the others. "Some of our stuff has washed ashore with us!"

He pulled a sodden shirt from the drink and held it up for display on the pole.

"This looks like your favorite shirt, Doctor."

"That's good," replied Dr. Quest. "It would be even better if my trusty pipe lighter were still in the pocket."

"Well, speak of the devil! Here it is! Must be enough air bubbles in this shirt to keep it afloat," replied Race, shaking the old Ronson in his hand. "And it's still full! Should be alright, once it dries out."

Seeming to scold the human intruders for trespassing into his realm, a little monkey chattered in protest from the upper branches of a nearby tree. Dr. Quest got to his feet and chuckled at the frantic animal.

"Don't worry, little fellow," he called out. "We don't plan to stay long."

"You got something in mind, Doctor?" asked Race, hopefully.

"We'll build a fire up there on those cliffs," replied Dr. Quest, pointing at the distant Island peak. "That's where it's most likely to be seen."

"Oh, I get it," said Race. "A signal fire to let someone know there are people here."

"Which brings up another question," interjected Hadji. "Where is here?"

"That's a problem, Hadji," replied Race. "When I saw this island from the bridge last night, I couldn't find it on any of our maps. I'm afraid this is an uncharted island."

"You mean…no one knows about it?" asked Jonny.

"Yeah, that's about the size of it," answered Race.

"Well, if no one knows the island is here," observed Hadji, "How will anyone know that we are here?"

"We'll just have to hope a passing ship will notice our beacon," replied Dr. Quest. "Until then, we're on our own."

"Well, gosh, Dad! I haven't seen any other ships in two days," observed Jonny.

"I know, Son," said the doctor. "We'll just have to hope for the best."

"Do you really think we are alone on this island, Doctor Quest?" asked Hadji.

"I'd bet on it, Hadji," replied the Doctor. "Race says it's uncharted and I don't see any sign of civilization, anywhere. No, I don't think there's anyone here, but us."

Unnoticed by any of them, there was a slight stirring in the nearby tree-line, even as Dr. Quest spoke. A tanned human hand silently reached out from the foliage and swept the leafy branches aside like a curtain. This made a small window in the wall of vegetation and a pair of eyes peered out from the jungle darkness, within. They were the brown, almond-shaped eyes of an Asian male – and they narrowed with cruel intensity.

Out on the beach, just yards away, the Quest party continued in their conversation, unawares. Even Bandit, in his comatose stupor, was too tired to notice the unseen eavesdropper.

"Well, that mountaintop's not getting any closer," said Race. "Looks like we got quite a hike ahead of us."

"True enough," replied the Doctor. "I guess we might as well get going."

The group moved off down the beach with Jonny pausing to scoop up his exhausted pooch.

"That means you, too, Bandit."

The little dog responded with a sigh and a worn-out expression, but refused to move in Jonny's grasp.

"OK, OK," said Jonny. "Guess I'll do all the walking, you lazy mutt."

With Bandit in tow, Jonny moved off to catch up with the others. The leafy curtain in the tree-line closed up again as the watching eyes faded silently back into the jungle.

By late morning, the heat had already become stifling in the semi-darkness beneath the island's lush tropical canopy. The air was still and moist along a narrow animal trail, weaving through the jungle interior, beneath the central mountain. The strange whoops and cries were louder here. Closer.

Suddenly, an explosion of birds burst skyward from a metallic blue hulk. Their incongruous nesting place, overgrown in a tangle of vines, was all that remained of an old torpedo bomber, its US Navy markings still discernible along its crumpled wings. The rush of feathers and squawking voices were still fading into the distance as the Quest party - being the reason for the sudden disturbance - appeared on the trail to pass by the old wreck. Jonny was in the lead, still carrying Bandit.

"Wow, look at that! Looks like an old Grumman. Avenger, TBF."

Hadji followed close behind Jonny.

"I wonder what happened to the pilot?"

Next along the trail was Race.

"Long dead and long forgotten, Hadji. These islands are littered with old souvenirs from the war."

Dr. Quest brought up the rear.

"Think of them as monuments to brave men, boys. On both sides."

"Well, I'm getting pretty hungry," said Jonny. What do you say we stop and look for some food around this…"

Jonny's foot caught on a thin vine, stretched low across the trail, tripping him. He fell flat on his face, Bandit jumping from his arms, as a sudden whoosh sounded in the leafy canopy, above.

"Jonny, look out!" cried a startled Hadji.

A barrel-sized log, festooned with sharpened bamboo spikes, swung down on another vine rope from an overhanging branch. It swooped in a wide ark over Jonny's prone form, missing his head by inches.

"Don't move, Jonny!" shouted Race. "Keep your head down!"

Jonny's ear was already pressed hard against the ground as the porcupine log swung back over him on its return pass.

"Don't worry, I plan to!" he said. "Way down!"

Having landed to one side, Bandit gulped in fear as his eyes followed the back and forth action of the vine rope like some kind of tennis spectator. His to-and-fro gaze narrowed to a standstill as the deadly pendulum eventually lost its momentum and came to rest.

Jonny's legs remained outstretched beneath the obscene-looking thing, now hanging limp on its tether, as he sat up to examine it. The others were now gathered close to inspect it, as well.

"Would you look at that!" said Race. "A booby-trap!"

"Are you alright, Son?" asked a worried Dr. Quest.

"I guess so," said Jonny. "But someone tried to make a pincushion out of me!"

"If you ask me," said Hadji, "we're not as alone on this island as we thought we were!"

"Yeah," agreed Race. "And our new neighbors, whoever they are, play pretty rough."

"Now, let's not jump to conclusions," said Dr. Quest. "This trap may have been set for animals. We can't assume it was for us."

"I've seen this kind of thing before," said Race. "The Viet Minh used to pull this trick back in French Indochina."

"Well, I doubt if there are any Viet Minh around here," replied the doctor. "Still, we'd better watch our step from now on. Some of these islands are still inhabited by headhunters."

"Headhunters!" exclaimed Hadji.

"Hear that, Bandit?" Jonny addressed his worried looking dog. "That head of yours would make a nice trophy on some native's belt. No need for shrinking, either. It's already pint sized!"

"Race, look at this," said Dr. Quest, bent with interest over the booby-trap log. He felt the point on one of the spikes and rubbed an oily brown fluid between his fingers. "These stakes are tipped with deadly poison!"

"You still think it was meant for animals, Doctor?" asked Race.

"No," said Dr. Quest. "Poison is no good for game intended for consumption. This kind of trap must be for human beings. Still, we can't assume it's for us. Even headhunters have enemy tribes to worry about."

Hadji had moved off a little ways down the trail.

"Hey, look at this," he called. "Footprints!"

He pointed to a set of man-made tracks along the path. Though deteriorated and slightly misshapen, they were clearly formed by some kind of shoe sole. The others were soon gathered around to inspect them, with Bandit sniffing apprehensively at one.

"Those are footprints, alright," stated Race. "And they weren't made by any barefoot primitive, either. Those are boot prints." He bent down over one to point out the details. "And look at this. Rope marks. Those boots must be in pretty bad shape 'cause they're bound up in twine or something."

"Maybe it's Robinson Caruso," offered Jonny.

"Well, if that's our new neighbor, he's not very neighborly," observed Hadji. "He could just put up a no trespassing sign if he's so worried about his privacy."

"It just doesn't make sense," said the doctor. "If we are dealing with some kind of castaway, why would he lay a booby-trap, like that? Who would want to kill a potential rescue party? Hmmm…"

"Hey, Dad," injected Jonny, "why don't we just follow 'em and see who they lead to?"

"Not a bad idea," replied the doctor. "Maybe you'd better take the lead, Race."

"Sure thing, Doctor," agreed Race. "Everybody stay close, now."

With that, the group moved off down the trail - except for Bandit. The little dog remained frozen, eyes locked in the opposite direction down the trail, as he began to growl softly.

There was a quiet disturbance in the tree-line along the path behind the Quest group. Once again, a branch was swept aside to make a small window in the vegetation and, once again, the Asian eyes peered out. They were set hard in a tanned, weather-creased face, framed by a shabby tangle of black hair cascading over the brow, and a jaw-line fringed with graying beard stubble.

The group was already disappearing around a bend up the trail, but Bandit remained behind, focused in all his snarling intensity on the dark opening in the foliage wall.

"Bandit, come on," shouted Jonny.

But the little dog refused to budge, still gazing like a pointer and growling.

"Come on, boy, you're holding up the parade!"

Reluctantly, Bandit abandoned his alert stance and stalked off toward his master's voice, casting wary glances back over his shoulder all the while.

On the other side of the leafy screen, the mysterious stranger watched him go. With feet clad in deteriorating leather boots, bound together with rope and cloth strips, he was definitely the man who had made the footprints. He also wore tattered brown, jodhpur trousers, an equally tattered khaki shirt with an open collar, and a peaked khaki field cap with a gold anchor device on the front – the uniform of an Imperial Japanese soldier.

A living relic from WWII, the thin, middle-aged warrior clutched his Arisaka rifle at the ready, its long, wicked bayonet glinting in the sun. The etched chrysanthemum device (being the Emperor's flower emblem) on the gun's breechblock, identified its owner as a soldier of the pre-1945 Japanese Empire. It was a ruthless empire - now 20 years defunct - that had once held half the Pacific in its iron grasp. An empire this particular soldier was sworn to serve to his last breath…and all Americans were his blood enemies.

Unawares, the Quest party continued to follow the footprints along the trail, as the path began to rise more steeply up the mountain slope.

"One thing you can say about this guy," said Jonny. "He's not hard to follow."

"Yeah," agreed Race. "And judging from the stride of these footsteps, he must be quite a spry fellow."

"You can say that again," said Hadji. "This trail grows so steep. I don't know about you guys, but all this walking is getting to my poor feet."

"Good point, Hadji," observed Dr. Quest. "Let's take five and catch our breath."

The group came to a stop and Bandit flopped to his stomach for a rest.

"Ha!" chided Jonny. "You don't have to tell Bandit twice!"

"He is always ready for a dog-nap," added Hadji.

"We'll rest here for a moment to regain our strength…but we'll have to find some food soon," observed the doctor as he surveyed the trail ahead.

Unseen by any of the Americans, the Japanese soldier had been stalking along a parallel course through the jungle. Catching up with the subjects of his reconnaissance, he considered Dr. Quest through a gap in the screen of foliage between them.

"I'm for getting to the top first, Doctor," opined Race. "Once we get that signal fire built, we should have all the time in the world to scavenge for food."

"Yes, I agree," said Dr. Quest. "That plateau should make for the best scavenging grounds around here. And that waterfall we saw will, at least, provide some fresh water."

"Alright, then, that's the plan." agreed Race.

The hidden soldier silently crept forward to pass ahead of the Quest party along his parallel course. Again, he went unnoticed by anyone on the trail…except Bandit. The little dog sprang to his feet and growled with menace, his eyes again locked on the tree-line.

"What is it now, Boy?" asked Jonny as he followed the alert dog's gaze.

But all he saw was a two-foot lizard, gazing back with reptile indifference from its perch on the side of a tree. Bandit erupted into barking and the lizard scampered up the tree trunk to disappear in its upper branches.

"Aw, Bandit, it's just a big lizard," chided Jonny. "Nothing for you to be scared of!"

"He is more afraid of you than you are of him," added Hadji with a laugh.

With a raspberry spit, the little dog pouted in exasperation. He seemed offended by the way his concerns were being ignored.

"Maybe you'd better hold onto Bandit," observed Race. "We don't want him running off into the jungle around here."

"Good idea," said the doctor. "I guess it's time we get moving, again."

With that, Jonny scooped the little dog up and the group's feet paraded past the spot where he had been standing as they all continued up the trail.

By the middle of the afternoon, the sun beat down hard, but a stiff sea breeze had begun to blow in over a clearing that spread across a wide plateau, just beneath one side of the mountain peak. Here, a little bandicoot (looking like a cross between a rabbit and a rat) scavenged about in the tall grass. Suddenly, it reared up on its hind legs to sniff the air tentatively in the direction of the tree-line. Hearing the snap of twigs, the nervous rodent skittered immediately off into the underbrush.

From the steep climb at the edge of the clearing, Race Bannon pulled himself up by a tree branch to peer over the lip of the plateau. His eyes widened in surprise at the sight that greeted him.

Stretching across the clearing was an old airfield, littered with the wreckage of several vintage warplanes. Recognizable among them was a Mitsubishi A6-M Zero and a big, twin-engine "Betty" bomber, still intact, but tipped over on one wing with a broken gear strut. Off to one side of the cratered runway was a row of bamboo structures, mostly bombed out, except for one shack which looked to have been patched up into livable condition. Several machine guns and artillery pieces sat rusting in their sandbag emplacements, forever pointing skyward in anticipation of a long departed enemy. All around, scattered stacks of fuel drums, supply crates, and ammunition piles dotted the landscape. The tattered strips of a red and white banner flapped raggedly from the flagpole overhead - its faded colors still unmistakable in the famous "rising sun" pattern.

"Well, would you look at that!" blurted Race.

"Yes," said Dr. Quest, as he lifted himself up the steeply sloping plateau rim to join his bodyguard. "Must be an old Japanese air force base."

"More like a naval air station, I'd say…from the looks of that flag, anyway," replied Race. "That's the battle ensign of the Japanese Navy!"

"Wow!" shouted Jonny. "Look at all this stuff!"

"Hey, neato!" added Hadji.

Arriving right behind the men, the two boys rushed enthusiastically out into the clearing with a barking Bandit at their heels.

"Careful, boys," warned the Doctor. "There are sure to be unexploded munitions all around here."

But Jonny had already found a Japanese helmet and slapped it atop his ridiculously undersized head.

"Hey, Hadji, how do I look?" he asked.

"Like a church bell with legs," came the disappointing reply.

"Very funny," said Jonny, looking none too amused. "But I think Bandit's really about to get his bell rung!"

The little dog sniffed his way into a spent artillery shell, until his head became wedged inside.

"Careful, little one," warned Hadji. "Curiosity is what killed the cat."

"Yeah, and that goes for dogs, too," added Jonny.

But it was already too late. With whimpers muted by the shell casing stuck firmly over his head, the panicked bulldog ran blindly around the field in little circles. Before long, though, he bumped headlong into a supply crate. The collision staggered him back onto his butt with a loud ping, knocking the brass casing off his head to reveal a silly, chagrined expression on his face. Jonny and Hadji laughed heartily.

By this time, the two men had advanced out into the clearing to join the boys. Race looked about at the surrounding devastation and emitted a low whistle through his teeth.

"Looks like this place took quite a pasting," he observed.

"Yes," replied the doctor. "I wouldn't have wanted to be standing here twenty years ago. Let's have a look around. There might be some ration tins or canned food in the area."

Race picked up a long-handled device that looked something like an oversized toilet plunger.

"Hey, look at this," he said. "An old Japanese lunge mine!"

"Lunge mine?" asked Jonny. "What's that?"

"A suicide weapon, Jonny," answered Race, indicating the plunger head with a pointed finger. "They used to charge our tanks with these things. This gizmo on the end packs an armor-piercing punch."

"You mean, like a bomb?" replied Jonny.

"Exactly," answered Race, pantomiming a lancing movement. "You thrust it, like this."

"But the handle is not long enough," said Hadji. "How could anyone use one of those things without blowing himself up?"

"That's the idea, Hadji," explained Race. The Japanese soldier was expected to sacrifice his own life if that's what it took to defeat even one enemy tank. And they did it gladly."

"In that case, I don't think I want to be a Japanese soldier," said Jonny, removing the old helmet from his head and tossing it aside. "You think that thing can still go off?"

"I doubt it, Jonny," said Dr. Quest. "After all these years in this heat and humidity, the powder charge is probably fouled through. In fact, without the proper storage and maintenance, anything with working parts would be useless by now in this jungle."

As if to prove Dr. Quest wrong, the crackling hiss of radio static drifted in on the breeze from the direction of the bombed out huts.

"Hey, listen!" cried Jonny. "That sounds like a radio!"

"It is a radio!" agreed his father. "But…how can that be?"

"Maybe it's our new neighbor," offered Hadji.

"Yeah," said Race, wryly. "Maybe he's listening to the ball game."

"It's coming from that shack over there," said Jonny, pointing.

All eyes turned toward the one bamboo structure that seemed intact. Its wooden door, made from supply crate panels, was shut, and a camouflaged net was strung up over the entrance like an awning.

Suddenly, the door burst open and the Japanese soldier, howling like a _samurai_ , leapt from the shack into full view. With his face contorted into an aggressive snarl, he landed in fighting stance, crouched low with his rifle at the ready - its bayonet tip leveled menacingly at the shocked Americans.

"Holy mackerel, it's a live one!" exclaimed Race.

Barking wildly, Bandit immediately charged the old warrior, quickly covering the thirty yards between them.

"Bandit, No!" cried Jonny.

But it was no use. The little dog was closing fast on the soldier's feet. One look at his quarry's reaction, though, with eyes set in glaring intensity and rifle coiled back for a lancing thrust, caused Bandit to change his mind. Gulping in fear, the little dog began to backpedal furiously, skidding to a stop just in time to avoid the lunging bayonet tip - which spiked into the ground inches before his nose. Whimpering outright, the frightened pooch turned tail and ran back toward his own people at a gallop.

With a loud war cry, the soldier withdrew his blade from the ground and charged the Americans, full out. Sprinting with the bayonet-tipped rifle held forward like a lance and his face still contorted into a fearsome snarl, the old warrior shrieked out a blood-curdling _"Banzai!"_

"This guy means business!" cried Race. "Run!"

Jonny immediately bolted across the airfield like a track star, closely followed by Hadji and Dr. Quest. Running toward the opposite side of the plateau from whence they came, the group was soon overtaken by Bandit, still whimpering in terror, as he passed from the rear of the pack to the front. Race remained behind, just long enough to hurl the lunge mine crosswise at his onrushing opponent's shins. The tripped-up soldier tumbled into a heap, sputtering Japanese curses, as Race took off to catch up with the others.

"Keep going," shouted Race. "Don't slow down!"

But Bandit came skidding to a halt at the edge of a sheer cliff. Jonny arrived right behind him. He stopped near a roaring waterfall that plunged down from the mountain peak to carve a deep canyon across their path. Peering over the side, he saw a narrow river, far below.

"We can't, Race!" replied Jonny. "There's a big cliff up here!"

The Japanese soldier was already back on his feet to resume his bayonet charge.

" _Banzai! Banzaaai!"_ he screamed.

Hadji, Dr. Quest, and Race closed up with Jonny and Bandit at the cliff's edge.

"Jump!" cried Race.

"But…it is so high!" protested Hadji.

"Yeah," agreed Jonny. "What if that water's too shallow?"

"It's usually pretty deep under a waterfall," said Dr. Quest in as reassuring a voice as he could muster.

The onrushing soldier was closing rapidly – almost upon them.

"There's no choice," shouted Race. "Jump!"

Poised between the two boys, Dr. Quest bundled one of them along in either arm as he leapt over the side. Race swept Bandit up and jumped right behind them. All fell, howling at the top of their lungs, through a seemingly endless drop - as their enemy arrived three steps too late on the precipice behind them. He could only shout in outrage as he stopped himself short.

The Quest party plunged into the river, with Race and the boys soon splashing to the surface. Having separated from the bodyguard's grip, Bandit soon bobbed up as well, to dogpaddle furiously…but Dr. Quest was nowhere to be seen.

"Dad! Dad!" cried a panicked Jonny.

Almost immediately, the doctor appeared on the surface from beneath the roiling waterfall turbulence, gasping for air.

"I'm okay, Jonny," he answered. "Just got caught in the undertow for a moment."

The entire party was already drifting downstream with the current. Up on the bluff top, the Japanese soldier raised his rifle into firing position and pulled the trigger…but there was no shot. Only the click of the firing pin sounded against the bullet. Cursing in frustration, the old warrior opened his bolt action and checked the firing chamber to find the cartridge inside to be corroded through. He could only watch his targets drift away on the river below and shout after them in the little English he knew.

"You die!" he screamed. "You die, Yankee!"

" _Sayonara_ , Pal!" answered Race. "Better luck next time!"

Soon, the soldier was out of sight and the escapees were picking up speed in the increasing current.

"What do we do now, Dad?" asked Jonny.

"We drift with the river," said Dr. Quest. "With any luck, it should empty out on the beach, somewhere near the place we washed up."

"Right back where we started from," said Hadji. "But at least we will be far away from that bayonet!"

"Let's just hope our new neighbor can't swim," added Race.

Having rolled over and plucked his struggling dog out of the drink, Jonny floated on his back, allowing Bandit to ride on his chest as the whole party drifted downriver out of sight.

By early evening, the same little monkey chattered from its treetop perch as the sun set on the stretch of beach where the Quest party had washed up, painting the sky in orange and purple tones. Race again stood knee deep in the surf, fishing through the washed up debris with the same stick.

"Well, now," he said. "Looks like a lot more of our stuff has been washing up all through the day."

He picked a soggy tennis shoe out of the water and hoisted it up to view on the tip of the pole.

"Anyone need another shoestring?" he asked, flicking the shoe over to the beach near the others.

A small campfire was now burning, where the two Quest boys sat on a log, fashioning weapons. With Bandit at his feet, gnawing on a previously found shoe, Jonny used its string to lash his open-bladed pocket knife to the end of a bamboo shaft. Hadji sharpened pointed tips onto other bamboo shafts with a rough stone. Kneeling over a flat boulder nearby, Dr. Quest wielded two more stones like a chisel and hammer to chip his way through a coconut shell.

"I don't get it, Dad," said Jonny. "Doesn't that guy know the war is over?"

"Apparently not, Jonny. The Japanese had forces scattered all over the Pacific on remote islands just like this one. Some of them got cut off out here. Some of them lost contact with their headquarters. Some of them just got forgotten."

"And he won't surrender for anything," added Race. "Those guys live by the _Bushido_ Code. It's a warrior tradition that goes all the way back to the _Samurai_. If he never got word about the war's end, he'll keep following his last order, no matter what. And that order is to kill the enemy…which means us."

"I have heard of these men, from the newspapers in India," said Hadji. "Every once in a while, they find some old soldier hiding out in the jungle. Still fighting the war."

"Yeah, but…this guy's got a radio," said Jonny. "We heard it. How come he doesn't know what's been going on for all these years?"

"We don't know what kind of radio he's got, Jonny," said the doctor. It might be a short range job. We're a long way from civilization out here, probably too far for an old field set. It's possible that our man was only in contact with some forward headquarters, nearby. If that link was wiped out or withdrawn, he might not be in contact with anyone, anymore."

"And besides," added Race, still fishing around at the water's edge. "He probably wouldn't trust just any voice on the radio. It would have to be his own commanding officer, or he would think it was a trick to make him give up. No telling where that officer is now…if he even lived through the war."

Dr. Quest finally managed to chisel a hole through the coconut and offered it up to Jonny and Hadji.

"Coconut milk, anyone?" he said. "You boys had better keep your strength up."

"Well, whadda you know," announced Race from the surf-line. "It's my scuba tank!"

He wrestled a heavy oxygen bottle from the drink and held it up to view.

"Bring it ashore, Race," said the doctor. "That might come in handy."

Wading in from the surf, Race stepped up to the boys and dropped the air tank on the sand.

"How are those weapons coming?" he asked.

"If you really must know, I found a good use for the elastic band in my undershorts," reported Hadji.

"Ha!" snorted Race. "Anything a little less personal?"

Well," said the boy, indicating one of his sharpened bamboo spears. "I've got about ten of these, so far."

"Good job, Hadji. Now let's see what you've got there, Jonny."

"Well, not much," said Jonny, handing his makeshift pike over to Race. "I could use a bigger pocket knife."

Race took the bamboo pole and held its lashed blade tip up to his face for examination.

"No, this will do just fine," he said.

"You really think that crazy man will come after us down here?" asked Hadji.

"I don't know, but we're not waiting around to find out," answered the doctor. "We've got to get to that radio."

"Yeah," added Race. "And I don't think our new neighbor's gonna take too kindly to it."

"No," said Jonny. "He doesn't seem to be the kindly type."

"You got that right," agreed Race. "Did you see that emblem on his cap? It was no gold star, like the regular army wore."

"I didn't see anything," answered Hadji. "I was too busy running!"

"Yeah, me too," added Jonny.

"Well, I did," explained Race. "It was a gold anchor. That means he's _Rikusentai:_ Naval Infantry. What we would call a marine. Those guys are as tough as they come."

"I wish I could reason with him," said Dr. Quest. "I might be able to convince him that we're not enemies anymore. But without the ability to speak Japanese, I'm afraid that's impossible."

"Yeah," said Race. "Looks like we'll have to convince him the hard way."

His face tightened into an expression of serious resolve as he clutched the makeshift pike with greater purpose. The steel blade at the tip glinted red in the fading light of sunset.

After dark, the night air was warm and sultry up on the plateau clearing, as though the jungle itself were sweating from every pore. All was still, but for the chirping and zinging of exotic insects. The Southern Cross twinkled in the ink black sky and a bright, nearly full moon shone down on the airfield, now surrounded by a barbed wire entanglement along its perimeter. A dim yellow light flickered in the window of the soldier's hut.

There was a stirring in the tree-line and a nocturnal sugar glider gazed down impassively with big saucer eyes, before flitting away from its leafy perch like a flying squirrel. Dr. Quest and Race Bannon appeared at the edge of the clearing, in the same place where they had arrived earlier that day. Race gripped the bamboo pike made by Jonny and the doctor held a club formed from a knotted piece of driftwood. He also carried the scuba tank slung from his shoulder on a strap made from shirt cloth, and tucked under his arm was a folded bamboo and twine cradle contraption that resembled a small, backless lawn chair. The two men surveyed the field carefully, focusing their attention on the lighted hut.

"Looks like our friend's been busy," whispered Race. "That barbed wire wasn't there this afternoon."

"Yes, he seems to be expecting us. There's a light on in that hut. I'm guessing our man is in there, now."

Inside his shack, the soldier sat solemnly at a makeshift crate table, shaving the stubble from his face with an old straight razor by the light of a small oil lamp made from a ration tin. With newly trimmed hair, he studied his own reflection in the tiny kit mirror for a long moment and seemed satisfied with his cleaned up appearance. Then he checked the snugness of his _senninbari,_ or "thousand stitch belt," beneath his shirt. It was a traditional good luck wrap (with knitted red stitches from a thousand well-wishers), given as a parting gift from loved ones, now all but forgotten. Moving in a deliberate, ritualistic fashion, he bowed his head to fasten a red and white kerchief around his brow. It was his _hinomaru yoseguki_ : a small Japanese flag, bearing hand scrawled exhortations to courage and honor, also given as a traditional parting gift from his family. Nowhere upon it, though, would there be any wish for the soldier's safe return – an odd oversight to the western mind. The soldier lifted his face to the mirror, again to study his own reflection. His eyes filled with a sense of purpose. It was a feeling he had not known in a long time.

Outside, the two Americans advanced silently to a row of oil drums, just outside the wire. Crouched behind the barrels, they got a slightly closer view of the shack.

"We've got to get inside there," whispered Dr. Quest. "You think you can make it through the wire?"

"Shouldn't be a problem. Used to do it all the time on the training course back at Intelligence One. You'd better wait here while I take a look around."

Race crept off on all fours toward the entanglement as Dr. Quest watched his progress with concern. Suddenly, though, the doctor was distracted by a small animal that came sidling up next to him from behind. It was Bandit! The little dog crouched silently, coiled low on his haunches as though somehow understanding the stealthy requirements of the situation.

"Huh?" said Dr. Quest. "What are you doing here?"

The doctor soon got the answer to his own question as he looked off in the direction from whence Bandit had come. There, Jonny and Hadji crouched in the same entrance to the clearing by which he and Race had just arrived. Each boy clutched a bundle of the homemade spears they had fashioned, and an improvised slingshot was tucked into Hadji's belt.

"Boys!" he exclaimed in the most muffled command voice he could muster. "I told you to stay behind!"

"I know, Dad," explained Jonny, as the two crawling youngsters joined their father behind the oil drum barricade. "But I couldn't just sit around and do nothing, while you were in danger."

"Nor could I," added Hadji.

"We'll talk about this later," said Dr. Quest. Now keep quiet, both of you."

"Okay," whispered Jonny. "But where's Race?"

"Out there," answered the doctor. "He's trying to find a way through that wire."

A few dozen yards ahead of them, Race was, indeed, inching his way beneath the barbed wire entanglement on his belly.

"Careful, Race," warned Jonny, in a low voice.

"Almost there," whispered Race, more to himself than to anyone else.

Still in a belly-crawl, he was emerging from the other side of the entanglement…almost clear…when the cuff of his pants caught a barb on the wire. There were pebble-filled ration tins hung along the strand, and one of these rattled like a little bell. Race froze, his gaze snapping toward the sound near his foot with sudden consternation.

Inside his hut, the Japanese soldier was just placing his helmet over the patriotic bandanna on his head when he, too, heard the jury-rigged alarm, outside. His gaze snapped toward the sound, as well. Rising from his seat, he turned squarely toward the door, picked up the scabbard belt containing his long, curved, officer's _katana_ (a more contemporary version of the ancient _samurai_ sword), and clipped it around his waist with an air of finality. His was the last modern army in the world to use the sword in combat…and he was ready to wield it again.

Back out on the clearing, Dr. Quest and the boys remained behind their barricade with Bandit.

"Oh, no!" whispered Jonny. "Those bell-cans are going to give us away, for sure!"

On the other side of the wire, Race was already up on his feet, pike held at the ready, in combat stance. Across the wide landing field, the Japanese soldier suddenly burst from the door of his hut with a blood-curdling _Banzai_ scream. Also crouched into a combat stance, he gripped his own bayonet-tipped rifle at the ready.

"Alright, Pal," snarled Race, coiling himself for action. "Let's see what you got!"

Still screaming like a banshee, the soldier charged straight toward Race, running full-tilt across the airfield with the business end of his bayonet held forward like a lance.

From the sidelines, Hadji let fly with a rock from his slingshot. It struck hard against the onrushing enemy's helmet with a loud ping, staggering the old warrior back slightly and halting his charge. Hadji immediately drew back for another shot, but the elastic band broke in his grasp.

"Aiy!" he cried. "They don't make these underwear bands like they used to!"

"Thanks, Hadji," shouted Race. "That's one way to stop a freight train!"

"Any time, Race," replied Hadji. "But I don't think that will slow him down for long!"

"Not a chance," added Jonny. "He's already back in the fight!"

Sure enough, the old soldier had already shaken off the blow and closed with Race. The two combatants were now squared off in close quarters, each circling the other, at the tip of their respective weapons. Race made a jab with his pike, but the soldier blocked it with his rifle – slapping hard to knock the knife-ended stick right out of his opponents hands. It clattered to the ground several yards away, leaving Race defenseless.

"Look out, Race!" shouted Dr. Quest from the sidelines.

On the field of battle, Race feinted back a few steps, his body coiled for evasive action.

"Okay," he allowed, "so you're no amateur…"

He was answered by an aggressive howl as the soldier struck forward with a bayonet lunge - but Race dodged the jab, grabbing hold of the rifle barrel and using it as a fulcrum to judo flip his enemy and send him flying under his own momentum. Race kept his grip on the rifle to end up with the weapon, as the old warrior landed in a heap on the ground.

"…but neither am I!" added Race, in his own sardonic way.

The soldier quickly picked himself up from the dirt and shook his head clear, spitting indignant curses in Japanese all the while.

"You begging for more, Pal?" snarled Race as he crouched into a combat stance with the commandeered rifle.

The old warrior's face twisted into a predatory grin, however, as he pulled the long, wicked _katana_ from its scabbard and wielded the flashing blade high over his head with both hands.

"Uh-oh," muttered Race. "Looks like you've been keeping that thing pretty sharp over the years."

With a howling " _Hiyaaaaa,_ " the infantryman charged, swinging the sword down toward his enemy's head. But Race expertly deflected the blow to one side with a bayonet swipe and followed up with a clanging rifle butt to the soldier's helmet, staggering him again.

"That's it Race! Give it to him!" cried Jonny.

"That's one for our side!" added Hadji.

Once again, the two combatants circled each other warily at the tip of their respective weapons. Suddenly, Race lunged toward his enemy's gut with the bayonet, but the soldier jumped adroitly to one side and chopped the extended rifle in half with a mighty sword stroke. The two pieces dropped uselessly from the American's hands. Once again, Race was left defenseless – and his opponent was drawing back the sword for a killing blow.

"Oh, no!" cried Hadji from the sidelines.

Jonny rushed out from behind the oil drum barricade with a bundle of bamboo spears and heaved one at the Japanese soldier.

"Heads up, Race! Get out of there!"

Out on the field of battle, the spear tip spiked into the ground between the two men, momentarily distracting the soldier. Race immediately turned and dashed away.

Hadji quickly joined Jonny with his own bundle of spears and both boys continuously hurled their projectiles in rapid succession.

The sharpened shafts rained down upon the soldier. Some pegged into the ground all around him, some bounced harmlessly off his helmet, and some were chopped right out of the air by expert swordsmanship as the flashing _katana_ blade swished this way and that. The old warrior remained untouched.

Soon, though, the supply of spears was exhausted, leaving Jonny and Hadji to look on helplessly from the sidelines.

"I'm out, Hadji," Shouted Jonny.

"Me too," came his adoptive brother's reply. "And we didn't even scratch him!"

"Boys!" shouted Dr. Quest from behind the barricade. "Get back here!"

Having put plenty of distance between himself and his opponent, Race stopped near the overgrown runway and picked up his original pike from where it had fallen.

"Thanks for the help, boys," shouted Race, once again crouching into combat stance with his weapon. "But leave this guy to me!"

However, the Japanese soldier was not looking at Race. Within the forest of ground-spiked spear shafts, he was now focused on the two boys as he produced a hand grenade from his ammo pouch.

"Yankee boy," shouted the old warrior. "You die now!"

"Uh-oh," said Jonny, ducking back behind the cover of the oil drums with Hadji. "Looks like we got his attention."

Suddenly, a segmented Japanese can grenade dropped into the barricade nest, leaking smoke from its cylindrical top. Snapping his gaze around, Dr. Quest regarded the bouncing device in wide-eyed horror as it came to rest on the ground just behind himself and the boys.

"Grenade! Hit the dirt!" shouted the doctor.

The three Quests flung themselves to the ground and covered their heads – but Bandit inched up to sniff tentatively at the smoking bomb.

"Bandit, No!" cried Jonny. "Get away from there!"

The little dog, indeed, jumped back as the grenade suddenly emitted a spray of sparks from its pin hole with a loud, fizzling sound.

"Look!" announced an exultant Hadji. "It's a dud!"

"Thank God," sighed Dr. Quest.

"Yeah, that was a close one," agreed Jonny, as the three of them finally uncoiled from their duck-and-cover positions.

Bandit looked none the wiser, cocking his head with a comically inquisitive look on his little canine face.

Out on the field of battle, Race shook his lance in the infantryman's direction.

"Over here, big shot!" he called. "Why don't you pick on someone your own size?"

" _Banzai! Banzaaaai!"_

The old warrior was screaming at the top of his lungs as he, once again, charged Race with the samurai sword held high. But Race was ready. Rolling onto his back and using his legs as a fulcrum, he executed a sudden judo flip against the onrushing soldier, sending his opponent headlong over the top of his prone form. Carried airborne under his own momentum, the howling infantryman smashed backward and upside down into the hulk of the old bomber wreck. Again, he tumbled into a heap on the ground.

"Yea, Race!" cheered Jonny. "That'll show him!"

Once again, the old warrior picked himself up indignantly from the dirt. Trying to shake his head clear, he leaned back against the bomber fuselage to steady himself – but his grip remained firm on the hilt of his sword.

"Two can play at this game!" bellowed Race.

This time it was the American who charged, full-tilt, with his pike held forward like a lance. As he closed in to run his enemy through, however, the soldier leaped aside and Race's blade-tipped staff drove straight into the thin aluminum skin of the airplane. Before he could dislodge it, the swordsman was back in action – slicing the bamboo shaft in half with a quick downward stroke. Once again disarmed, Race could only rely on his athletic instincts, now. He quickly ducked a backhanded slash toward his throat and dove to the ground beneath the whooshing blade.

"Race!" shouted Hadji. "Get up! He's right on top of you!"

Indeed, the Japanese soldier towered over the American to deliver a series of chopping strokes. Each time, though, Race rolled to one side or the other along the ground, avoiding the flashing sword. The soldier drew back for one final blow, but the agile bodyguard coiled his legs into a semi-kip and sprang beneath the drooping wing of the bomber wreck…just as the blade whacked harmlessly into the metal airfoil, right above his head.

But the long-surviving soldier displayed great agility, too. Vaulting atop the wing, he continued to pursue his quarry from above, as Race crab-scuttled out from beneath the other side.

Now in position directly over his target, the soldier lifted his sword overhead with both hands, pointed the tip down toward the American's chest, and pounced off the wing with another _karate_ howl – only to bury his blade into the ground as Race, once again, rolled clear. The old warrior landed face down with a thud, knocking the wind out of himself, as his intended victim slipped beneath the plane's bent undercarriage and disappeared out the other side.

This time, the aged soldier came to his feet more slowly, beginning to show some signs of exhaustion. Shaking his head clear, he glanced about in confusion, unable to locate his elusive enemy. But Race would not remain out of sight for long. Appearing atop the wreck from behind its sagging tail, he ran along the upward-sloping fuselage to a position above the trooper and prepared to jump him.

"Up here, Tojo!" shouted Race as he coiled to pounce. "Mind if I drop in?"

But the old warrior spun quickly to face his foe, raising the tip of his sword into the path of the American's imminent trajectory. Thinking better of his plan, Race froze up to arrest his intended spring.

"Okay, I see your point," admitted Race. "Maybe I'll just keep the high ground and be king of the hill…but you'll have to come up and play if you want to do anything about it!"

" _Yaaaaa!"_ came the soldier's only reply as he produced another grenade from his pouch and pulled the pin.

"Uh – Oh…," was all the American could say, his confident expression giving way to sudden concern.

The old warrior heaved his grenade, but Race dropped to the fuselage roof and buried his head in his hands, allowing the projectile to arc overhead. This one was no dud, though it landed well wide of its mark to explode harmlessly out of shrapnel range. The blast effect soon subsided and Race lifted his head…only to find that his enemy had disappeared from view.

Pointing excitedly, Jonny shouted from the sidelines. "Lookout Race! Behind you!"

Sure enough, Race looked over his shoulder at the bomber's tail, where the wreck slanted down to the ground, and saw his enemy clamoring up onto the fuselage with him.

"So…you want to play, after all," observed Race as he scrambled to his feet.

A machine gun barrel protruded from the plane's ruined dorsal turret, and the American twisted it free of its rusted mountings. Wielding the old weapon like a baseball bat, he backed cautiously away from the advancing soldier, inching his way toward the bomber's nose…when, suddenly, a section of burned-out fuselage gave way under him. Dropping his makeshift club, Race fell through the hole up to his armpits – where he was helplessly trapped before his oncoming enemy.

"Oh, no! Race is stuck!" cried Hadji.

He could only watch in horror from behind the barricade of oil drums with an equally horrified Jonny. Dr. Quest, however, was busy unfolding his improvised cradle stand and setting it up atop one of the barrels.

"Stand clear, boys," said the doctor. "It's time I try out my little experiment."

"Hurry, Dad," exclaimed Jonny. "That soldier's closing in fast!"

Indeed, the Japanese soldier was advancing steadily along the fuselage roof of the old bomber, chuckling maliciously, with his sword held forward as he slowly approached his target.

"I know, Jonny," said Dr. Quest. "We'll only get one shot at this…"

The oxygen tank was now resting on the cradle like a small torpedo, its scuba regulator toward the doctor as he carefully sighted along the top of the steel cylinder, adjusting its aim.

" Quick, Doctor Quest," cried Hadji. "He's almost on top of Race!"

Out on the airplane, Race struggled mightily, but remained stuck tight in the fuselage hole…as the shadow of his approaching enemy fell over him. Soon, the soldier's bound-up combat boots stepped up to stand at the edge of the trap hole, on a level with Bannon's face. The Quest bodyguard looked up in defeat at the old warrior, now towering above him with an expression of fierce resolve as he drew back his sword for a final, overhead stroke. Race could only shut his eyes in anticipation of the blow.

"I can't look," said Jonny, burying his face in his hands.

"Nor can I," said Hadji, with the same gesture.

Even Bandit, peeking out from the bottom corner of the barricade, whimpered in dread as he covered his eyes with his paws.

"Cross your fingers," said Dr. Quest. "And fire one!"

With that, the doctor swung his driftwood club down hard on the scuba regulator at the end of the oxygen bottle, knocking it off. With a sudden whoosh, the uncorked steel cylinder launched off the bamboo cradle under high pressure, streaking like a rocket toward the Japanese soldier. It caught him full in the stomach, just before he could strike with his sword. The old warrior crumpled over the tip of the missile, even as he was swept off the bomber and carried airborne by the compressed air jet for several dozen yards. Smashing into the door of his own hut, he collapsed into a heap on the ground, where the camouflaged tarp – stretched overhead to form a porch awning - fell upon him like a fishing net.

"Nice shot, Dad!" exclaimed Jonny with a slap of his fist into his palm.

"More like a lucky shot, I'd say," replied a relieved looking Doctor Quest.

Unable to constrain himself behind the oil drum barricade any longer, Bandit raced across the tarmac, yapping at the top of his little doggie lungs.

"Ha!" observed Jonny. "Looks like Bandit's got him covered."

Right on cue, the feisty bulldog skidded to a stop next to the unconscious soldier's draped form, growling with as much menace as he could muster.

"You tell him, Bandit!" said the boy.

Meanwhile, Hadji, having ventured up to the soldier's shack, peered into the window for a look at the all-important radio.

"Hey, look!" he shouted. "I have heard of Japanese bicycle troops, before – but never a bicycle radio!"

Indeed, an old wheel-less bicycle frame, propped up in the fashion of an exercise bike, was attached to the radio set by means of two wires leading to a copper coil wrapped around the rear axle.

"It's a pedal-powered generator," said Dr. Quest, stepping up to the window behind Hadji. "Ingenious, really. I was wondering how he powered that radio after all these years."

"You think we can pick up the top 40?" joked Jonny, stepping up beside his father.

"Ha! We can do better that that!" replied the Doctor. "I want to get this rig up to that peak we saw at the top of the island. There may be some passing ships in the area, and we should get the best signal range from there."

"Hey!" shouted Race, still wedged up to his armpits in the hole atop the bomber fuselage. "Is anybody going to help me out of here?"

Doctor Quest and the boys could not resist a hearty laugh at their bodyguard's predicament. Even Bandit, still on guard over the comatose soldier, yapped a happy sounding yap.

The next morning dawned bright and clear on the island's central peak, with the sparkling blue ocean stretching out in all directions below. On the back side, closest to the sea, a sheer cliff dropped off to the clashing surf on a narrow beach at its boulder-strewn foot.

Atop the high, rocky outcropping, an improvised antennae mast (made from electrical wire wound up the length of a bamboo pole), stretched some dozen feet into the cloudless sky. Beneath this, the Japanese radio equipment had already been dragged up the mountain and rigged up on a flat plateau clearing at the apex. A seagull circled silently overhead.

Now using his launch cradle as a folding stool, Dr. Quest sat earnestly at the radio console, set up on a table-sized boulder, while Race pedaled the wire-connected bicycle generator a few feet away. The Japanese soldier sat scowling (and occasionally cursing under his breath) on a nearby tree stump, his arms now bound to his sides by several turns of rope around his mid-section. He seemed small and pathetic without his helmet or weaponry, his taught weathered face showing the effects of age and defeat, with his newly cropped hair looking more gray in the bright sunlight. Jonny kept a close interest in the prisoner, leaning over the man's slight, seated form with his hands on his knees, as though inspecting some kind of bug on a leaf. Bandit sat erect at his feet, also watching the prisoner in his best guard dog posture. Hadji was positioned a few steps away at the cliff's edge, scrutinizing the horizon for any sign of a passing ship.

"Mayday, Mayday, can anybody hear me? Over…This is Dr. Benton Quest, is anybody out there? Over…" Speaking urgently into the radio set, the doctor turned his attention to his bodyguard. "Can you pedal any faster, Race? We need more power!"

"Any faster and this thing will break loose and roll away," came the wry reply.

Suddenly, the bound soldier erupted with a torrent of curses in Japanese, spitting at Jonny's feet in the process.

"I don't think our new friend is very happy," observed Jonny.

"You think he's mad, now?" said Race. "Just wait 'till he finds out who won the war!"

"No surrender!" cried the soldier. Springing to his feet, he suddenly lunged, head-butting Jonny square in the mid-section.

"Hey!" bleated the boy as he tumbled onto his backside.

"Jonny, look out! He's getting away!" shouted Race.

But it was already too late. The prisoner, rope wraps and all, turned toward the cliff and ran headlong for it. Bandit, snarling and barking, chased behind, nipping at the escapee's heels to no effect. Hadji turned toward the disturbance, but could do nothing as the man sprinted past and launched himself over the edge. A long " _Banzaaaaai_ " trailed off into the depths below, ending abruptly with a thud that seemed to shake the ground slightly. The little dog skidded to a stop at the top of the bluffs and looked down over the edge in wide-eyed shock.

"He jumped!" blurted Hadji, also in shock.

The others could only stare at the cliff's vacant edge in open-mouthed horror. It was Jonny who finally broke the silence.

"Sorry to see anyone go like that. Guess maybe we should have tied his legs, too."

"You couldn't have stopped him," said Race, with a slow shake of the head. "Those guys consider surrender to be a dishonor…and they're taught to choose death over dishonor every time."

"Don't look, boys," said Dr. Quest, letting his forehead sag onto his palm. "I wish I could have made him understand that the war is over."

"I wouldn't worry too much, Doctor," consoled Race. "He went out exactly like he wanted to. A guy like that…at war all these years…wouldn't know what to do with himself in peacetime, anyway."

"I guess you're right, Race," said the doctor. "Still…it seems like such a needless waste."

"Hey, look!" shouted Hadji.

The mood suddenly brightened as he turned from the cliff edge, smiling broadly and pointing to the distant horizon.

"I think I see something way out there! Is that a ship?"

Well out to sea, a large Danish freighter, the S.S. Midnight Sun, cut through the swells, trailing a thin stream of smoke from its twin funnels. On the bridge, a crisply uniformed Captain stood over his Radioman's shoulder, with a look of concern creasing his gaunt, grandfatherly face.

"I just had it a moment ago, sir," said the operator in a thick Danish accent as he twisted his radio knobs furiously. "It was very faint, but I'm sure…"

Suddenly, the apparatus crackled to life: "May Day, May Day, can you read me? Over. This is Doctor Benton Quest, can you read me? Over."

"There!" said the Radioman. "There it is again!" Then, speaking into the headset, "Yes, I read you. This is the Midnight Sun. I read you loud and clear. Over."

"Thank God!" came Dr. Quest's voice over the radio. "I'm in a party of four. Oh… and one dog. We're stranded on a small island out here. Exact location, unknown. Can you help? Over."

"Get a fix on his signal," said the Captain in an equally thick Danish accent. "Give our reply that we are on our way."

Some two hours later, the late morning was still clear and pleasant. The sun was high, but it was not yet noon and a fresh sea breeze moderated the normal mid-day heat of the tropics. The Quest party was now gathered on the same beach where they had washed ashore, waving enthusiastically as a small motor launch pulled up in the shallow surf.

"Hellooo," called Dr. Quest through cupped hands. "We're over here!"

Again, the same monkey chattered angrily from the same tree. Below, the ragged group of castaways had already waded out into the surf, forming a single file alongside the launch as three hardy Danish seamen began to help them aboard. The Captain, having elected to remain with his circling ship, was not among them. First was Dr. Quest, extending a hand to his rescuers, who hauled him up on the gunwales.

"Welcome aboard, sir," said one of the sailors.

"Thanks," replied the doctor. "I can't tell you how good it is to see you!"

Lined up behind his father, Jonny waited his turn with a happily panting Bandit in his arms. Next was Race, who stood behind Jonny, beaming.

"I'll second that," added Race. "We were starting to wonder if anyone missed us."

Last in line was Hadji, who turned to take one last look at the island. He could not help but notice the loudly chattering monkey.

"I think he is glad to see us go!" said the boy with a smile.

"He's glad!" replied Jonny. "As far as I'm concerned, he can have that island all to himself!"

The rest of the group had a hearty laugh, seeming to frighten the little creature. Breaking off its chatter, it immediately dove deeper into the tree and out of sight, leaving a plume of scattered leaves behind.

This only brought another burst of laughter from the boat, now full with all of the rescued Americans in their places.

"This is all of you, then?" asked one of the thickly accented sailors.

"Yes, I'm afraid so," replied Dr. Quest. "There was one more, but he won't be joining us…poor soul."

"Okay, Hans," shouted the sailor to one of his mates. "Let's push off."

With that, the motor coughed to life and the tiny launch pulled away. On board, the small group of castaways seemed to settle a little deeper into their bench seats with relief.

"I am sorry to hear about your friend, sir," said the sailor. I take it, then, that one of you didn't make it through."

"Well, I wouldn't say he was one of us!" quipped Race.

"Yeah," added Jonny. "And I wouldn't call him a friend, either!"

"I don't understand," replied the Sailor. "You are speaking of an enemy, then?"

"Well, not exactly," answered Dr. Quest. "But he certainly seemed to think so."

"Now, that's an understatement!" replied Race. "You just wait 'till we report to your captain. Have we got a story for you!"

"And for the Japanese authorities," added the doctor. "I'm sure they'll want to make a final accounting for one of their own."

On its way out to sea, the little boat chugged past the cliff, atop which the Quest party had so recently been encamped. At the bottom was now a small mound of rocks, piled over the spot where the Japanese soldier had landed. A stick of driftwood was planted in the top, with the dead man's flapping _hinomaru_ headband tied to it like a flag. On the piece of driftwood, carved in Dr. Quest's handwriting, was a simple message: "Here lies the last brave soldier of Imperial Japan."

30


End file.
